


3 Random Encounters and 1 Not So Much

by bardicjustice



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 3+1, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22611589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardicjustice/pseuds/bardicjustice
Summary: 3 times Tim and Martin met by happenstance and 1 time they didn't.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33
Collections: The Magnus Archives Rare Pairs 2020





	3 Random Encounters and 1 Not So Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madnessiseverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/gifts).



Tim had forgotten about the Institute’s Christmas party. In truth, he hadn’t actually planned to go, but then he had received Martin as his Secret Santa and had felt obligated to at least show up. The Archives had kept him busy, however, so he’d put off getting a gift until just now - and the party had started ten minutes ago.

He scanned the shelves, looking for something generic yet nice. He didn’t really know what Martin wanted, hadn’t asked him ahead of time. A candle would be nice, Martin would probably like that, right? Or maybe a pack of fancy tea?

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to look around the store for anything else. He grabbed a candle, one that was big and rather nice with a label that revealed its intended scent to be cinnamon and vanilla. Tim moved towards the checkout, looking over his shoulder to scan the shelves one last time.

He wasn’t looking when he bumped into someone, nearly dropping the candle in the process. He stepped back to regain his balance, glancing up to meet the person’s eyes, an apology already on his lips.

“Sorry about that-” His words died as he realized who he’d bumped into. “Martin?”

“Oh!” Martin looked flustered. “Tim, what a surprise, I didn’t expect to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be at the Christmas party?”

“Aren’t you?” Tim countered. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d pick up a few snacks on my way there, you know,” Martin shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d be so late, but…” he trailed off as he looked at Tim’s hands. “Is that a candle?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Tim bit his lip. It was too late to try and hide the gift. “It’s actually for you. Because of Secret Santa.”

Martin blinked in surprise. “It’s nice,” he said softly. “A candle. That’s very sweet of you.”

“Yeah, you know, thought it might spruce up the Archives,” Tim said. “Get rid of that musty smell that’s always lingering everywhere in that place.”

“Definitely,” Martin said. He was grinning now. Tim ducked his head to hide the way his face heated up a bit at the adorable smile Martin had. His nose would scrunch up and his whole face would change, like everything in him wanted to be involved in the expression of joy. Tim found himself wishing Martin would smile more often. It was a welcome sight in the dreary work of the Archives.

“I suppose I might as well give it to you now,” Tim muttered. “Merry Christmas, Martin.”

“Happy holidays, Tim,” Martin responded warmly, the smile never leaving his face.

* * *

  
  


Walking into the coffee shop and ordering his usual drink, an iced mocha with extra espresso, was a daily routine for Tim. It made pouring through the depressing and often disturbing statements easier, like the alertness of his mind helped him brush off statements that were far too reminiscent of old memories. He’d gotten Jon coffee (straight black with nothing added) on days when he felt like being nice despite the man’s pretentious attitude, and even brought in a few cups for Sasha (six packets of sugar with cream) after she’d dealt with some statements that had obviously left a chill up her spine. But he’d never gotten anything for Martin, even if he wanted to, because Martin preferred tea anyway.

So it was a surprise when he walked into the coffee shop and saw Martin struggling with a drink holder. He was attempting to put the drinks on it but the flimsy cardboard couldn’t hold the weight of all four drinks. Martin finally set the drink holder down with a sigh after spilling one drink and nearly dropping another, clearly frustrated.

“Need some help?” Tim asked. Martin jumped slightly as he turned around, looking at Tim and smiling in greeting.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d get everyone drinks today, but I’m having trouble getting them all on the holder which is not doing its job.”

“Well, I’d be glad to carry half and you take the other half,” Tim said with a grin. It was the kind of smile that he knew made women swoon and straight men question their sexuality, but Martin just smiled back like he’d offered to buy him the sun.

“Would you?” he said. “I’d appreciate it.”

Tim picked up two drinks, one of which was his and the other was tea. He frowned. He hadn’t realized they made tea at this coffee shop, mentally slapping himself because  _ of course they did _ . He took in the tea’s label and made a mental note to himself to remember Martin’s favorite, just in case.

“It’s very nice of you to get us all drinks today,” Tim said, pushing the door open with his back and holding it for Martin. “Is it a special occasion, or…?”

“No, nothing like that,” Martin said. “I don’t know, I just felt like it, I guess.”

Martin’s face darkened for just a moment. “I just like making people happy,” he said, his face smoothing out again. “That’s all.”

“Well, it’s much appreciated,” Tim said with a wink.

This time Martin did blush. “It’s nothing,” he said.

Tim studied Martin for a moment. As far as he knew, nothing had happened at work, but the way Martin had said that he just liked making people happy tickled the back of Tim’s mind. Like he was making people happy to make himself happy, or make him feel useful, or something of the sort. Tim wondered if Martin felt useless at work, other than as a glorified intern, despite all that he did there. Jon certainly didn’t do anything to make him feel like he was doing a good job.

“Hey,” Tim said to Martin, who glanced over to him. “Don’t let Jon get to you, okay? He’s so caught up in his own head that I doubt he realizes other people actually exist.”

Martin scoffed at that. “He doesn’t get to me,” Martin said, a little defensively.

“Well, good,” Tim said. “I’d much prefer if _ I _ got to you instead.”

Martin turned bright red at that, ducking his head and muttering something that Tim couldn’t quite catch. Tim just smiled sunnily and kept walking, doing his best to keep his proud smirk to himself.

* * *

“It’s not so much the work that’s the issue,” Tim was saying to the very nice (and very pretty) lady he’d sat down next to at the bar. “I mean, kayaking gives you some impressive upper body strength. It uses a surprising amount of your core.” He patted his stomach at this, watching her eyes follow his hand.

“I’m sure,” she said warmly. “You sure look like you get a lot of exercise in.”

“When I can,” Tim said. He leaned on the bar, putting his full attention on the woman. “What about you? You look like the intellectual type.”

She giggled at this and brushed back a strand of hair. “Well-”

“Tim?”

Tim turned around to see Martin standing behind him, looking like he just stepped into the bar. He glanced from Tim to the woman before his eyes scanned the rest of the room, settling on something near the back as Martin apparently found what he’d been looking for.

“Martin?” Tim couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a statement,” Martin replied. “One of the statement givers frequents this place and Jon wanted me to ask for a follow up.”

“It’s a Friday night, Martin, and you’re at a bar doing work?” Tim stretched languidly, letting both of his elbows rest on the bar and smirking internally as both Martin and the woman glanced down at where his stretching had exposed his midriff. “Why don’t you sit down, have a few drinks, relax? You can ask after the statement giver later tonight.”

“I’d love to,” Martin stammered, glancing nervously at the woman beside Tim. “But, you know, Jon-”

“Enough about  _ Jon _ ,” Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not like he’s going to fire you for having a few drinks. You’re acting like getting away from work for a bit is going to be the end of the world or something.”

Martin hesitated. “There aren’t any seats open so…”

“Sure there are,” the woman spoke up as she stood. “It seems you two have a bit of… catching up to do and I would rather not get in your way.” She winked at Tim as she said this. “Enjoy the evening, gentlemen.”

Martin sat down, still looking unsure as he glanced towards the statement giver. Tim ordered another drink for himself and Martin, watching the way his face creased in worry as he gazed across the room. His face was soft, round and squishy, and Tim pushed down the urge to trace his hand along Martin’s jawline. That was a little too much a little too soon.

The drinks came and Tim slid one over to Martin, who looked at it with an embarrassed expression.

“Oh, no thank you,” he said. “I’ll- I’ll just have a club soda?” he asked the bartender. Tim shrugged and pulled the drink over to himself. More for him.

“Sorry, I don’t really go to bars,” Martin said.

“I never would’ve guessed.”

Martin blushed at that. “I just- I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“You could go with me,” Tim offered. “If you were ever interested, of course. I know some of the best places in town.”

Martin hid a smile. “I’m sure you do,” he said. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“It’s a date,” Tim declared, and downed the rest of his drink.

Martin didn’t argue, which Tim counted as a victory. He grinned drunkenly at Martin and took a contented sip of his second drink, mentally celebrating his victory on winning Martin over. At least now Martin was looking at him rather than at the statement giver.

“Are you drunk?” Martin asked suddenly.

“If I’m not then I’m certainly getting there,” Tim answered. He took a big swig of his drink to prove it.

“Maybe you should slow down,” Martin said. “I’m pretty sure you were already pretty tipsy when I walked in here.”

“Uh huh,” Tim agreed. He took another sip.

Martin sighed. “Okay, fine. But you have to let me walk you home, alright?”

“Anytime,” Tim replied in a low voice.

“No,” Martin said. “No, just -  _ just _ walk you home.”

Tim shrugged. “That works for me,” he said. “But next time, we’ll take it to the next level. Meaning I invite you  _ inside  _ my house and you can watch me play video games.”

Martin laughed at that. “Okay. Next time.”

* * *

  
  


“Tim,” Jon said one day in the break room. “You need to talk to Martin.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Is there something wrong?”

“He’s been living here for the past week,” Jon said.

“I noticed,” Tim replied, feeling his voice take on an edge. “You aren’t going to kick him out, are you? Those worms are everywhere. I see them every time I walk into the Institute.”

“No, I’m not going to kick him out,” Jon looked irritated by the question. “I just thought he might be more comfortable if someone stayed here with him. Or if you could get him to leave, I have a spare flat that I offered to let him use but I know he hasn’t left because he doesn’t want to be alone in a place he doesn’t know.”

“Oh,” Tim blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Jon gave him a dry look. “I’m not a monster, Tim.”

“I’ll go talk to him, then,” Tim said. Jon nodded and Tim stepped out of the break room, heading to where he knew Martin would be scanning over statements. Sure enough, that was exactly where he found him.

“Hey,” Tim eloquently said. Martin glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Tim, though Tim could see the bags under his eyes and a corkscrew sitting on the table. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Just tired.”

“Well, listen,” Tim started. “You don’t have to stay here tonight, if you don’t want to. You could come over to my place.”

“I appreciate it, Tim, but I’m not in the mood,” Martin said. His eyes darted away from Tim’s. “It’s just been a long week is all.”

“No, nothing like that,” Tim said. “Remember how I told you next time I’d invite you to my house and you could watch me play video games?”

Martin quirked an eyebrow. “I’m surprised  _ you  _ remember that.”

“I never forget my promises.” Tim said sternly. “You could sleep in my bed or on the couch and I’ll stay awake all night. Make sure none of your worm friends come knocking.”

“You don’t have to do that, Tim,” Martin said softly.

“No, it’s fine,” Time shrugged. “I got this new game and I’m so close to getting the next achievement on it, so I’d be staying up anyway. Just thought I’d extend the invitation to you as well.”

Martin looked at him for a moment. “Thank you, Tim. That’s really nice of you.”

“It seems nice,” Tim said. “But I just needed the excuse.”

Martin shook his head, unable to hide his smile. “Well, you got it.”

“Good,” Tim stepped back. “I hope you like pasta, because I have this wonderfully exquisite dish I’ve been dying to make. It’s called spaghetti, you ever had that before?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Martin laughed.

“Well get ready for the best damn spaghetti you’ve ever had,” Tim said. “There’ll be meatballs and everything. I’m truly going all out, just for you.”

“I look forward to it.”

Tim grinned and whirled around on his heel. He walked back to his desk, where the next statement was waiting.

If he skipped on his way there like a schoolkid, no one was around to know.


End file.
